


22 December 2012

by midstown



Series: turn off the lights, and i’ll glow [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Music, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, First Meetings, M/M, Partying, Underage Drinking, viktor and yuri are cousins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 10:58:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12816066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midstown/pseuds/midstown
Summary: In 2012, conspiracy theorists predicted that the world would end.For Otabek Altin, 2012 is the year his world begins.(The irony that he meets him at an End-Of-The-World themed blowout does not fall short on him, thank you very much.)orotabek and yuri meet at a party, georgi is absolutely useless, and viktor is kind of a headass.





	22 December 2012

**Author's Note:**

> some notes about the au before we begin:
> 
> 1) yuri, viktor, mila, and georgi are in a band called madness  
> 2) yuri does vocals and guitar, viktor plays bass, georgi plays guitar, and mila is their badass drummer  
> 3) otabek is an r&b/alt singer  
> 4) this au is a series and is going to span from 2012 to 2017 if my calculations are correct
> 
> special thanks to jennie g, ur a gem
> 
> disclaimer: i don’t own yuri!!! on ice but i think that’s fairly easy to figure out

**_22 December 2012_ **

 

Yuri Plisetsky is a fiery being, even at eighteen. He towers over almost everyone at the party, partly because of his five inch platform heels, and partly because he’s built like a fairy. He’s also considerably drunker than everyone at the party, and _that’s_ because his bandmates keep slipping him drinks when they think no one is looking. Not that it would have mattered anyway; this is a Hollywood party, full of A-List celebrities, and while Madness had not yet become a household name, anybody who is _anybody_ knows who they are, and no one in their right mind would deny _Yuri Plisetsky_ , eighteen or not, a vodka Redbull.

He’s downing his fifth when Otabek runs into him. Not that Otabek is counting, because that’s fucking _weird_ , but he’s observing _everyone_ , that’s just what he does, and it just so happens that Yuri is a part of everyone, so Otabek had been observing him, too.

“Holy shit,” Yuri says, words slurred and eyes wide. “You’re Otabek Altin.”

“Last time I checked,” Otabek replies, taking a long sip from his drink.

“Oh, fuck, I just realized you have no idea who I am. I can hear Viktor now, scolding me for forgetting my manners,” Yuri’s ramble teeters off near the end, giving Otabek the impression that he began talking to himself halfway through, rather than Otabek. “I’m—”

“Yuri Plisetsky,” Otabek supplies helpfully, “from Madness. You guys are one of my favorite bands.”

Yuri stares at him incredulously for what feels like a few minutes, but Otabek is drunk, and he definitely snorted a line before he came, so it’s probably only a couple nanoseconds, before he speaks.

“You’ve… You’ve heard of my band?” Yuri asks.

“Dude, what the fuck, of course I have. I was at your guys’ first show in St. Petersburg. Front row.”

“Holy fuck,” Yuri says, awestruck, “Mila is going to lose her shit.”

“It looks like _you’re_ losing your shit,” Otabek observes.

 _Always_ _observing_.

“Only a little,” Yuri admitts, alcohol fogging his usual icy, sarcastic demeanor. “You have the best vibes ever, _and_ you’re foreign. Us outsiders need to stick together, man.”

“I wouldn’t think my music fit your vibe,” Otabek says lightly.

“I wouldn’t think _mine_ fit _yours_ ,” Yuri counters.

“Touché.”

Yuri snorts, and a small, rare smile breaks through Otabek’s normally straight face.

Even drunk-as-a-skunk Yuri can feel the Earth shift because of that smile.

(Thinking back on it, Yuri probably only felt the Earth shift _because_ he was drunk as a skunk.)

Two hours later, after the duo had done four tequila shots together and told embarrassing story after embarrassing story of their childhood, Otabek holds his hair back in one of the bathroom stalls as he vomits. He feeds him small sips of water and a few Premium crackers from the snack table, then leads him around the room, on the hunt for one of his band members, ideally his cousin, to take him home.

If Otabek was religious, he would think his prayers had been answered, because they bump into Viktor first.

“Oh, shit,” he says, giving Yuri a look of concern, “Yura, are you alright?”

“He puked about twenty minutes ago,” Otabek informs him, and Viktor’s eyes widen to saucers when they set on the Kazakh, which he dutifully ignores for the time being. “I gave him some water and a couple crackers, and he’s been alright since, but I wouldn’t give him anything heavier until the morning.”

“Feels like fur in m’mouth…” Yuri slurs unhelpfully.

“You’re Otabek Altin,” Viktor says, debatably more unhelpfully.

“And you’re Viktor Nikiforov,” Otabek states. “I’d get into the speech of how much I love your band, but I really think you should take Yuri home.”

“Of course, right, I was getting ready to leave anyway.” Viktor turns around to a speak a few words to the group he’s with, then faces Otabek. He pulls one of Yuri’s arms over his shoulder, and Otabek follows his example, wrapping the other around his own.

“Georgi was supposed to be watching him,” Viktor explains, “but I think I saw him leaving with his ex a few hours ago. Fucking idiot.”

“I bumped into Yuri at eleven,” Otabek says. “We’ve been together ever since.”

“Thank you for taking care of him,” Viktor says once they step out of the mansion the party is held at. Otabek can’t remember which Olsen twin the house belongs to.

“It really wasn’t a big deal,” Otabek shrugs him off, “we had fun. Until the vomiting, at least. That was decidedly less fun.”

“I really, really appreciate it,” Viktor insists, sliding Yuri into the backseat of a Rover on his side. “If he wasn’t drooling all over my leather seats right now, he’d probably kill me for saying this, but Yuri’s never really clicked with anyone besides the band. So, like, it’s cool that he talked to you, and stuff.”

“Articulate,” Otabek answers, but his eyes are smiling, so Viktor smiles back.

“I should get him home, now,” Viktor says. “But here,” he digs through his pockets, pulling random objects out, looking more and more frustrated, before finally discovering what he’s looking for. Otabek doesn’t notice it’s a sharpie until Viktor is crowding his space, rolling up his sleeve, and scribbling on his forearm.

“That’s Yuri’s cell,” Viktor says, capping the marker with his teeth. “In case you wanted it.”

“Yeah,” Otabek says, “thanks.”

“Enjoy the rest of your night, Otabek Altin,” Viktor says, sliding into the driver's seat.

“Don’t let him choke on his own vomit, Viktor Nikiforov.”

“Oh God,” Viktor chokes on the words, looking horrified, “our grandpa would kill me.”

And then he slams the car door shut and pulls away from the street. Otabek watches the car disappear down the road until the taillights are just a speck in the dark, then calls a cab to take him home.

When he finally lays down in his king-sized bed, he pulls out his phone and types in the new number, sending a quick text before he loses his confidence.

_Hello Yuri, it’s Otabek. We hung out at the party, though I’m not sure how much you remember. I just wanted to make sure you got home alive. Tonight was fun, and I’d like to see you again, sober this time. Sleep well, Yuri. -OA_


End file.
